Seventeen-year-old Lindsey Taylor has been living a charmed life—always the lead in school plays, possessor of a healthy entourage and a hot boyfriend. But halfway through her junior year, the unthinkable happens. Her boyfriend dumps her. She screws up her audition for the spring play. And to top it all off, her theater teacher wants her to run lines with Trey Berger, a gamer guy who irritates her practically every time he opens his mouth. Lindsey needs to find some better luck and quick.

Trey Berger can barely tolerate Lindsey Taylor. It’s bad enough that their best friends are dating and he has to see Lindsey at group hangouts. Now they have to rehearse together. Berger would rather do just about anything else, even chill with his grandmother, whose dementia has forced her to move in with his family.

But as the semester continues, Berger discovers there’s more to Lindsey than the drama queen

persona she puts on for everyone else’s benefit. And the person behind the mask might be someone he cares about. A lot. So what exactly is he going to do about it?

And while Lindsey desperately tries to change her luck and heal from the breakup, she slowly realizes Berger has become her best friend. This video-game-playing boy makes her laugh. And holds her when she cries. Could he possibly become something more?

People filled the baggage claim area, grabbing their items from the carousel, their conversations muffled by all the noise. I stepped out of the way of a man heading for the exit and scanned people’s faces. Where was Adam? Were his parents already here to take him home? That might make things awkward.

I edged through the crowd and finally saw him. Relief ran through me, but immediately drained away at the sight of the people with him. Dressed in a T-shirt and hoodie,Adam was placing a huge duffle bag on the floor beside an elderly couple and a teenage girl. A gorgeous teenage girl with dark hair. I didn’t know who she was, but I hated everything about her. From her long, curling hair to the tight shirt that showed off all her curves. Even the tiny belly curve.

Should I go over there? I kind of had to if I wanted to talk to him. But something held me back. Some sense that prickled up my neck. I shouldn’t meet those people. At least, not right now. Then the problem took care of itself. Adam straightened and looked across the room. Our gazes met. Locked. But I couldn’t read what might be in his. It was too far away.

He tilted his head down toward the others, said something, and then started working his way through the crowd. I knew the people he was with must be watching, but I only had eyes for Adam. He did not look happy.

Crap. I hadn’t planned on a fight. Surely that wasn’t what he had in mind. My pulse sped up, and I squeezed my fingers around the strap of my shoulder bag. And then he was standing in front of me, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, a vertical line between his eyebrows.

“Hey,” he said, with no kiss or hug. “What’re you doing here? I told you I had a ride.”

I made myself smile. “I wanted to surprise you.”

He ran a hand through his hair. It had gotten long; a couple of strands curled toward the snake tat on his neck. “How’re you doing?” he asked, sounding like he really didn’t care.

Someone jostled him, and he stepped closer. “Look, you know things have been weird between us. I should’ve talked to you about this before I left, but I didn’t know how. Stuff has … changed.”

Author Bio:

The mother of two grown sons, Patricia B. Tighe lives in West Texas with her husband and two dogs. Her love of the written word caused her to get a journalism degree from Texas A&M University in 1980 and an MA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University in 2008. When not writing or reading, she can be found walking the dogs or yelling at the TV during an NFL game. She's also a fan of British TV shows. Downton Abbey, anyone?

Even from behind, he was something to behold. He had on a black leather jacket with a charcoal gray hoodie. On anyone else, it would have looked juvenile, hipster even. Like someone emulating ‘rugged’ based on what they saw in a magazine or on some TV show. This guy was all man, all testosterone with his broad shoulders and jeans that gripped an ass that I was dying to grip.

Realizing that I was staring at some stranger’s behind, my eyes shot up to tamer territory, but his dark wavy hair was even more dangerous. It was just long enough that he could do that man-bun thing that was all the rage. But nothing about this man was forced. He didn’t follow trends; he made his own. His dark locks were wild and free.

I hadn’t even seen his face, but I knew he was trouble. With a capital T. Which meant I was in trouble, because if I wasn’t sure I was gonna take the job before, well, I was positive now.

“Oh! Mr. Carraway, I didn’t know you were on site today.”

I gasped.

No.

NO.

The allure, that instant draw…I should have known. It had only happened once before when I was partnered with the hottest guy at Rhoades High in Advanced Chem.

He turned from the espresso machine and I stopped breathing.

Lincoln Carraway smiled at me like a wolf about to rip out the throat of its prey.

“Welcome to Make a Change, Catherine.”

Author Bio:

Ava Claire is a sucker for Alpha males and happily ever afters. When not putting pen to paper or glued to her Kindle, Ava likes road tripping, karaoke, vintage fashion, and searching for her own brooding billionaire.

Emily Bradshaw waited over twenty years to see Connor again… When her childhood friend, Connor Walsh, returns home to see his ailing father, Emily is elated to be reunited with the handsome man who moved to London so many years ago. But excitement fades to disappointment when he doesn’t remember her—or their first kiss. With her crush on Connor still in full swing, she’s determined to enjoy the short time he’s in Fermosa Bay, even though she knows her heart will break when he returns to his life in London. When Connor receives news that his biological father is terminally ill, he returns to Fermosa Bay, Australia. With memories of his childhood tucked fondly in the back of his mind, returning to the small, coastal town leaves him to wonder how life would have been if his mother had never taken him away. Would he have been married and had children? Perhaps with Emily Bradshaw… Secrets from long ago begin to unfold… As Connor and his father grow closer, Connor learns his parents have a broken love story of their own. Will the echoes of the past lure him into staying, maybe for good? Or will he relive his parents’ tragic story and flee to London? Walking away from a real chance at true love…

Connor leaned against the window frame with his arms crossed as he watched the waves crashing against the rocks. In front of him, as wide as the horizon, was the ocean. With the clouds drifting in from the sea, the sky had turned grey and dark, and he knew there’d be even more rain coming later in the day.He would’ve enjoyed the scene if it hadn’t reminded him of his changing life. He’d been back in Fermosa Bay for two days already, but the memories of the first seven years of his life he’d spent in this small Australian coastal town were tucked away in the back of his mind. Seemingly inaccessible. Nowadays, his life was in London and had been for the last twenty-three years. He took a couple of deep breaths as he looked towards the harbour in the distance, and the small town in the alcove with the hilly forest in the background where he’d spend the first seven years of his life. It was truly one very picturesque little place.A noise from the other end of the house hauled him back from his thoughts, and he stepped away from the window. Over the last few weeks, since he’d decided to accept Jack’s invitation to Australia, he’d had visions of what he’d find here. His mother hadn’t told him much about the time she’d lived here, except about Jack owning a pub. Connor had been furious for her lack of memory, but in the end admitted to himself it’d probably not been a time she’d like to remember.So he was surprised to find out that Jack lived in this massive house just outside Fermosa Bay, on the top of the cliffs, with a view over the ocean. The house had five rooms and a small study at the back. The lounge room, with a high pitched ceiling, had wood fire heating and a big window front. Connor had loved the house the instant he’d stepped into it.When he entered the hall, he saw his father and said, “Good morning, Jack.”The old man sighed sadly. “You still can’t bring it over your heart to call me Dad?”Connor’s gaze wandered from his father to all the many framed photos along the wall. Jack was in many of the photos, but most them had people in them he didn’t know, except the biggest one, which showed Connor as a child in Jack’s arms. A wave of sadness shook him. No, it wasn’t in him to call him Dad. Or to even think of him as his dad.After a moment’s silence, he turned to his father and shook his head. “Sorry.”Jack coughed, and Connor quickly rushed to his side, holding him upright.“Another bad day?” Connor asked.“Son, there will be no more good days. One day is like the other, until it will be the last.”The words struck Connor deep enough to feel some emotions for his father. He knew time was running out, but hearing it made it sound final.“There’s a front coming, but I think you’d be able to sit outside for a little while. At least until the nurse comes.”Jack simply nodded.Connor helped his father out onto the deck where the old man sat down on his swing seat.“Thanks, Son.”Without a reply, Connor stepped away and watched the sea again.“I couldn’t keep you away from the water when you were a child,” Jack said.“What do you mean?” Connor asked.Jack didn’t answer, so he turned around to look at his father. The old man stared into the distance, a withdrawn expression on his face.“You were constantly in the water. Whatever opportunity you had, you grabbed your little board and spent most of the day there.”“So what happened?”His father shrugged. “You left with your mother.”Sitting down on the chair next to Jack, Connor let out a long breath. “Something must’ve happened. I never go near water, let alone go in it.”Still gazing into the distance, Jack said, “I still have the blue board. Ethan’s little son sometimes uses it nowadays.”Not sure where the conversation was heading, Connor just went along. “Who’s Ethan?” he asked.The reaction from his father wasn’t what he expected. With his shoulders sagged, Jack closed his eyes. He looked so old and frail. From what Connor saw in all the photos around the house, cancer had taken a lot of life out of his father, leaving behind a haggard body with no energy left. Initially, he’d been taken aback by their similarities in looks, with their dark brown eyes and dark blond hair, including the stubborn curl above the ears, but after all, Jack was his father.

Iris Blobel was born and raised in Germany and only immigrated to Australia in the late 1990s. Having had the travel bug most of her life, Iris spent quite some time living in Scotland, London, as well as Canada where she met her husband. Her love for putting her stories onto paper only emerged a few years back, but now her laptop is a constant companion. Iris resides west of Melbourne with her husband and her beautiful two daughters as well as their dog. Next to her job at a private school, she also presents a German Program at the local Community Radio.

In the year 2084, the brilliant inventor, Alex Pella, finds himself at a precarious crossroad between the pursuit of justice and preservation of his own sanity. While attempting to undermine an international New World Order government created by the financial juggernaut known as The New Reality, he must also face the hidden truths about his own genetic heritage that are slowly destroying him. After receiving an ambiguous message sent from a former New Reality executive who died 2 years prior, Alex learns that the only possible means to confront this New World Order is to defeat a long-forgotten enemy almost 2500 years old.

THE HIDDEN REALITY is the second stand-alone novel in a trilogy starring Alex Pella, created by New Jersey-based neurologist and entrepreneur Stephen Martino. With his fusion of history, politics, and science fiction, Martino joins such masters of the thriller genre as Dan Brown, James Rollins, and Michael Crichton.

Martino’s villain is a corporation run by a cadre of ruthless international bankers known as The New Reality. Directed by the most corrupt and morally unscrupulous of the bunch, Myra Keres, the company has economically seized control of the world’s governments and the population’s personal freedoms in the process. In order to save humanity from this despot ruler and the unwonted atrocities to which she plans to perpetuate on the world, Alex Pella must infiltrate the company and face an enemy that has unknowingly haunted both him and history for almost 2500 years.

Martino says he wrote THE HIDDEN REALITYmore than just to entertain the reader. He wanted to create a modern day Orwellian ANIMAL FARM to allegorically forewarn his readers of a possible dystopia future that awaits all of mankind if humanity continues to proceed down its path of self-destruction.

In THE HIDDEN REALITY, Martino has included such hot-button contemporary topics as genetic cloning, unprecedented economic debt, the rise of big government, and the threat of a New World Order run by the economic elite, while bringing the reader back almost 2500 years into the past when the ancient city state nation known as Greece fought the mighty Persian Empire for world domination.

All of these elements, Martino maintains, separate his book from the pack. He calls THE HIDDEN REALITY “issue-oriented fiction. There are real concerns facing society today that threaten both the sovereignty and prosperity of our future generations. Though fictional, my novel addresses some of these issues and predicts the potential consequences we face as a nation and the world if they are not properly addressed today.”

For More Information

Was it one of his brothers or was this just some sort of rouse the police were using for him to open the door?

“Cato,” a muffled voice said from behind the door.

Stunned, Xavier stood motionless after he descended the last step on the stairs.

“Cato. Open up,” the muffled voice beckoned once again.

This was no rouse or trick. Only a high-ranking brother in the order would know his code name. After a brief moment of disbelief, Xavier placed the pistol in his nightshirt pocket and scurried over to unlatch the lock on the door.

Which of my brothers could it be? There are so few of us left.

He slowly opened the door, peering around the corner just in case this visitor was accompanied by other unwelcome guests. The man was alone and drenched from head to toe. His large brimmed top hat concealed his face, making him unrecognizable.

“Cato,” the man asked in a raspy voice, “May I come in?”

“Yes. Yes,” Xavier finally answered, still not able to recognize the man’s identity or even his voice. “Where are my manners, good sir? Please come in brother.”

As the man walked into the house, Xavier immediately shut the door and fastened the lock behind him. Though the man was a brother, he needed to secure the house in case he had been followed.

“Let me take your hat,” Xavier quickly offered.

Obliging his request, the man handed the soggy hat to his host. Water trickled down from it onto the hardwood floor as Xavier placed it on a coat hook standing next to the door.

“Spartacus!”

Though the man before him was about twenty pounds lighter, and drenched from his balding head down to his long blue-buttoned overcoat. Xavier immediately recognized the man’s identity—Adam Weishaupt. With a slight double chin, cherub-like cheeks and a dubious smile, he was thought to have been put to death after Duke Karl Theodor outlawed their order. But the former leader of their order was obviously still alive and now standing here in his hallway.

“Cato,” Spartacus immediately responded in a rushed and rasped tone. “There is little time. Do you still have everything?”

“Yes,” Xavier responded, still in disbelief that his brother from the order was still alive. “I kept everything hidden just like you requested.” Before he could say anything else, he grabbed Spartacus’s wet shoulders and asked, “How are you old friend? I was certain Duke Theodor had your head after he disbanded the order.”

Spartacus had little time for pleasantries. “Please, Cato. You must quickly bring me everything from the order. A new wave of reasoning is about to ignite in Europe starting in France, and I must be there to foster the initial spark.”

Xavier patted him on the shoulders and smiled in delight. “There’s no rush. Come and change into something dry. Have a cup of tea. The storm should break soon, and I will ready you fresh supplies for your journey ahead.”

“I may have been followed,” Spartacus quickly responded.

Xavier’s delight quickly soured at the revelation, though he knew the good of the order and its message meant more than his anonymity or even his own life.

“Yes. Follow me,” Xavier responded, quickly escorting his friend over to a wooden chest in an adjacent room. Though he had so many questions to ask, he understood he would have to wait for answers.

The room was dark and lit only by two candles almost completely melted to their base. With his lantern held in front of him, Xavier scurried over to the wooden chest and grabbed one of the brass handles along its side. Spartacus grabbed the other, and with little effort the two moved the chest to the side, revealing a small trap door underneath.

Xavier lifted the door by a small latch attached to it and brought his lantern closer so they could both get a better look. In the dim light provided by the lantern, Spartacus could just make out its contents.

Two large books, each with the order’s distinctive symbol imprinted on their cover, lay atop a beautifully ornate silver shield. Though the details of the shield’s artwork were lost in the darkness, the symbols certainly were not: an all-seeing eye surrounded by a pyramid.

The symbol was none other than that of the Order of the Illuminati.

A loud hammering on the front door caught them both by surprise.

Xavier almost dropped his lantern as he jumped back, nearly stumbling in response.

Clamoring from the back door in the rear of the house now accompanied the noise echoing from the front.

“Adam Weishaupt,” a voice bellowed from outside as the incessant banging on the doors continued. “Open up!”

Xavier quickly put down the lantern and wrapped the shield and two books in the linen on which they were lying. “I must get you out of here.”

Taking the linen package, he opened up the chest and grabbed a large leather satchel especially made for these items. Xavier looked at Spartacus while placing the linen package in the pouch. “You must leave now.”

Before he could say anything further, Spartacus interrupted. “Is this everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is this everything?” he reiterated over the clamoring noise.

With each new bang, the doors sounded as if they were going to collapse under the intense battering.

“Adam Weishaupt,” another voice from the rear of the house began to yell.

Time was dwindling. It would only be a few moments now before one of the doors would succumb to the beating.

Complicating the commotion, Xavier’s wife came running down the stairs. Carrying a lantern and wearing her nightshirt and cap, she asked, horrified by the commotion, “Who are these people, Xavier? And what do they want?”

“Go back up upstairs,” Xavier responded pointing back towards their bedroom.

Another strong pound came from the front door as its hinges began to give way.

Xavier’s wife stood in the hallway, motionless, looking at her husband and then the door, not knowing what to do.

The hinges on the front door continued to loosen and with each new thump the door opened just a small fraction more. Xavier’s wife began to cry and shiver under the stress. Though her husband cared for her dearly, he understood that the order’s cause meant more than even her safety.

He turned to Spartacus, “I have some other papers hidden in the kitchen. Come with me.”

“Who are these people?” Xavier’s wife cried out.

“We are here under the direct orders of Duke Theodor,” a voice from behind the front door insisted, the clamoring momentarily stopped. “Adam Weishaupt, come out.”

Xavier’s wife quickly went over to the door and began to fumble with the lock. She respected the authorities and certainly wanted no trouble with the Duke. Whoever her husband was harboring at this moment needed to leave.

“No!” shouted Xavier as he turned in disbelief to see his wife begin to unlatch the door.

He attempted to stop her but Spartacus grabbed him by the shoulder. “The other papers,” Spartacus shouted. “I must have the other papers!”

“But—” Xavier was cut off as Spartacus shoved him towards the kitchen.

The door to the rear of the house smashed open, leaving pieces of wooden shards all over the floor. Soldiers in long blue overcoats carrying bayonet rifles in their hands came barging through and into the storage room. The room was cluttered, wet from the storm, and blanketed in total darkness, which proved to be Xavier’s best defense.

One of the soldiers began to shout in agony as his companion accidentally bayoneted his leg upon tripping.

Book Excerpt:

Prologue

October 11, 1786 Landsbut, Bavaria

THE HYPNOTIC MELODY of the whistling wind and the patter of raindrops hitting the roof ordinarily proved more comforting to Xavier von Zweck than the most angelic lullaby. On this night, the grandfather clock had just chimed 2:00 a.m., and Xavier could barely close his eyes, let alone fall asleep.

Insomnia was no friend of his but had become an accustomed bedtime partner over the past year. Though the night was unusually warm and muggy for a Bavarian October, Xavier pulled another quilted blanket over his body, covering himself as if he were trying to make a cocoon.

“Mind your own business,” he quipped. Not wanting to start another argument, his wife simply turned away and drifted slowly back to sleep as if nothing had occurred. She had become accustomed to her husband’s quick fits of temper and erratic behavior. The man she married in her late teens was certainly not the man she had grown to know over the past year. His gentle, caring demeanor had been transformed into one of paranoia and fear. Though she cared for him dearly, their relationship dwindled as quickly as Xavier’s sanity.

If she only knew, Xavier thought. She would not be sleeping so soundly.

He double-checked his bedside table drawer for the tenth time that night to ensure that his gun was in the proper place. He had loaded the flintlock pistol and stowed it there in case of any emergency. Assured the gun was where he stored it, Xavier rolled on his back and looked blankly up at the ceiling. It was such a noble and just cause, he lamented. The enlightenment we would have brought to Bavaria, if not the world, would have made the Renaissance pale in comparison. Now they hunt us down like a pack of dogs, wanting to rid their country of any contrary thoughts or points of view. The government and church are nothing more than instruments of suppression that hinder man’s true nature to achieve enlightenment and pursue humanitarianism.

Xavier startled as the front door rattled.

Was it just the wind?

He lifted his head, trying not to make a sound. His breathing became shallow while his pulse raced. He could feel his heart pound and temples throb. He listened intently, hoping it was just the storm. Seconds passed like hours. Every raindrop sounded like raging bulls charging through his home. In his heightened awareness, the wind seemed to grow to hurricane proportions. His head darted to the bedroom window as a windblown tree branch only gently scraped across it.

They found me, he trembled. Just as they did all of the other brothers of the order! Baron Kruigge-Philo, Baron Bassus, Ferdinand Brunswick. All taken. Never seen or heard of again.

He looked at the window, expecting soldiers to come barging through it.

Nothing.

Xavier slowly began to ease himself back down to bed after a few terrifying moments.

False alarm.

Just as he was about to breathe relief, the door rattled once again. This time the sound was unmistakable. This was not the storm or some wayward tree branch. Someone was out outside trying to get in.

Wearing only his white-laced nightshirt, Xavier sprang to his feet. Grabbing the fluted lantern from the night table by the base with his right hand and the pistol with the left, he dashed over to the top of the stairs. From that vantage point he had a clear view of the front door. Illuminated by ornate lanterns on both sides and burning candles in the hallway, the door was clearly visible in this moonless night.

Xavier pointed the pistol down the stairs, waiting for any unwanted visitors to enter his home. Though the ivory and gold festooned weapon was an inaccurate shot, at close quarters it should prove accurate enough to stop an intruder.

The door rattled once again, and the person outside accompanied the rattling with seven distinct knocks. There were two doublets and one triplet all separated by a short interval. Could it be? Xavier hesitantly descended the steps, keeping his pistol pointing at the door. The knock was unmistakable. It was the secret cadence required to gain access to the order’s clandestine meetings.

“Move it,” a boisterous voice from the rear urged, grabbing the fallen soldiers and attempting to bring them to their feet on the slippery floor.

“Take this,” Xavier insisted, removing the pistol out from his nightshirt pocket. “It will provide only one shot. Make it count.”

Spartacus took the weapon but again insisted, “What about the other papers?”

“There is no time,” Xavier responded, “Go down…”

“Where is he?” a voice echoed from the hallway. “Where are you hiding Adam Weishaupt?”

A weak voice responded, “Some man just took my husband into the kitchen.”

“I have a horse ready just outside the wine cellar, in a stall I placed there in case of an emergency.” Xavier continued as he began to perspire under the stress. “There are two days’ worth of supplies and some money strapped to the saddle.”

“But the papers,” Spartacus insisted. “They must not fall into anyone else’s hands.”

Two soldiers suddenly appeared next to the kitchen. “We found him!” one of them yelled.

Xavier quickly handed his friend the lantern and rushed over to the soldiers, hoping to use his body as a shield and give his friend an extra second to escape. “Go now!” he insisted.

Spartacus took the lantern and immediately smashed it against the kitchen table covered in fine linen as Xavier ran over to the soldiers with his arms spread, hoping to block their pursuit. Flaming oil from the lamp spewed out upon the table and onto the walls upon impact, catching them on fire.

Xavier looked back in horror as his house was consumed by flames, while his friend, still holding the base of the lantern, slowly backed away towards the wine cellar.

What’s he doing?

Spartacus knew there was no other option. If the remaining Illuminati papers in the house somehow became public, it could compromise the entire movement. France would remain under its tyrannical rule from the king; all of Europe would remain masked in darkness.

The soldiers began to push past Xavier as he stood motionless. He had grown up in this home, and was the fourth generation of Zwecks to live there. All his belongings and generations worth of memories were turning to ash.

The soldiers stopped their pursuit as Spartacus pulled out the pistol Xavier had given him from his pocket. Taking close aim, he fired. A puff of black smoke momentarily obscured his vision. The bullet directly hit its mark, piercing the man’s heart and sending him tumbling backwards.

Mortally wounded, Xavier fell towards the soldiers who did nothing to stop him from falling on the hard wooden floors. Xavier struck the ground as blood poured from his chest. Letting out a single grunt, he lost consciousness before he could understand what had just transpired.

Spartacus ran down into the wine cellar. The reflection from the burning fire in the kitchen gave him just enough light for him to see his way back towards a set of steps in the back of the room. Though he had just murdered a close friend and brother of the order, he had no time to lament or second guess his actions. The importance of the Illuminati movement far outweighed the significance of one man’s life or worldly possessions—Xavier’s death was for the greater good of all mankind.

The soldiers followed Spartacus in quick pursuit. With their bayonets pointed forward, they ran through the fire-lit kitchen and towards the stairs.

Spartacus heard the soldiers in pursuit; they were closing in on him. Pushing up on a door at the top of the steps, he ascended into a covered barn with an already saddled horse seemingly awaiting his arrival.

A few already burning lanterns in the stall provided just enough illumination for him to see. He then quickly unlatched the barn’s only door and mounted the horse. A bluster of wind blew the door open just as Spartacus began to ride towards it.

Seeing their target attempting to ride away, one of the soldier’s took aim with his rifle before he ascended the final step of the wine cellar. With only one shot and his fellow companion still behind him, he knew the bullet needed to count. His orders were to bring back Adam Weishaupt dead or alive. Dead would work just fine.

The rifle went off with a black puff of smoke.

The bullet passed through Spartacus’s dark overcoat, inflicting only a minor flesh wound to his thigh. Barely noticing the pain, Spartacus put his head down and rode out into the night. With the shield and two books safely secured, he knew the course of mankind would be irrevocably changed from this moment forward.

About the Author

Stephen Martino is neurologist practicing inNew Jersey. Though not separating conjoined twins like Dr. Ben Carson, he is part of an active medical practice and is currently participating in concussion research and inventing new medical products. When he is not working, he can be found with his five children doing homework or cheering them on at a soccer field, basketball court, or dance recital. Martino is a member of the Knights of Columbus, a Cub Scout den leader and is an active public speaker, helping to provide stroke education to the local community,EMSsquads and healthcare professionals.

Beth is mistaken for rock star Sonita La Cruz, and ends up on a billionaire-dollar yacht. As a shift-worker in Glasgow, Beth has only known hardship. Now she's in a world of uniformed stewards, delicious French food and rows of gorgeous designer clothes. Beth keeps quiet about the mix-up, determined to wear every outfit in her wardrobe before she's sent home. What's wrong with a little play-acting? Beth takes to the role of rock diva like a duck takes to water. Aleksandr, the captain, arrives and is astonished to see a beautiful raven-haired girl lying on deck issuing orders through a loud-hailer. After talking to Beth, Aleksandr realises what has happened. His smuggling buddies, knowing Aleksandr needs to speak to Sonita about a kid’s crisis, grabbed Beth by mistake. Aleksandr is desperate. To save those children, he needs money, but Sonita has disappeared. Beth rises to the challenge. She looks like Sonita, so why not BE Sonita? Beth does a magazine interview for one million dollars, and ransoms herself for another million. Beth saves the kids … but can she save herself? Too late, Beth discovers why Sonita disappeared.

Alison Brodie is a Scot, with French Huguenot ancestors on her mother’s side of the family. Alison was a photographic model, modelling for a wide range of products, including Ducatti motorbikes and 7Up. She was also the vampire in the Schweppes commercial.

A disastrous modelling assignment in the Scottish Highlands gave Alison an idea for a story, which was to become Face to Face. She wrote Face to Face as a hobby and then decided to send it off to see what would happen. It was snapped up by Dinah Wiener, the first agent Alison sent it to. Three weeks later, Alison signed a two-book deal with Hodder & Stoughton. Subsequently, Face to Face was published in Germany and Holland. It was widely reviewed, ie: “Vain, but wildly funny leading lady.” -Scottish Daily Mail. It was also chosen as Good Housekeeping’s “Pick of the Paperbacks.”

Unfortunately, Alison then suffered from Second-Book Syndrome. The publisher’s deadline loomed and she was terrified because she didn’t have an idea for a story! She found the whole experience a nightmare; and this is why she cautions first-time authors to write more than one book before approaching an agent. She managed to finish the book – Sweet Talk – but it bombed.

While writing Sweet Talk, she moved to Kansas and lived there for two years. She loved the people, their friendliness, their free-and-easy way of life, the history and the BBQs! Sadly, her visa ran out and she had to come back to the UK – although her dream is to one day live permanently in America. Now, Alison lives in Biarritz, France.

Alison has taken the exhilarating steps to becoming an indie author. Her second ebook, THE DOUBLE, is out on Amazon Kindle with some great reviews. “Excellent.” –San Francisco Book Review.

Alison writes contemporary romance. She aims for a strong plot line, set against the background of a world-changing event, coupled with touches of humour, sexual tension and character transformation.

Here at GearShark, we’re straddling that line to bring you exclusive coverage of what some have dubbed the war of racing.
Every war starts with a spark and ends in revolution.
Drew Forrester was the spark,
but his second-in-command is the REVolution.

What does it take to stand brave in the face of opposition?

resolve of steel…

Stubborn will…

And a heart that refuses to give up.

It isn’t just the drivers in this war.
The revolution is about more than just racing.
It’s about shattering labels and taking risks.

Drew
I was no quitter.
I refused to quit Trent.So angry. I was so goddamned angry.
He was pushing me away when all I wanted to do was pull him close. It was almost laughable he tried to break up with me. I felt the laughter bubbling up inside me, ready to explode. It was like I was so incredibly infuriated I couldn’t yell, I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t even speak.
But I wanted to laugh. The kind of laugh only villains in movies did. The kind that bespoke of internal madness.
That’s what tonight was. Madness.
He was jumped. Beaten. He told me he loved me. Then he laid out intent to withhold that love.
Trent was trying to protect me, in his mind he wasn’t keeping the love he felt from me, rather showing it in the best way he knew how. I respected that. I did.
But I wouldn’t have it.
We’d gotten one week together, I wanted more.
I suppose thinking we could keep our relationship a secret was naive. Merely wishful thinking. When you loved someone the way we loved each other it was impossible to hide. It showed in every way.
Not just in the way we looked at each other. Or the way we spent every spare moment together. It showed in ways I never wanted to see until now. Ways I thought no one else would notice.
I’d been fooling myself.
It was the way he put ketchup on his plate so I could eat his fries. The way I automatically pulled the tomatoes off my burgers and slid them on to his plate. It was the fact I went to him first whenever something happened I wanted to share. And the way we made each other’s coffee, exactly as we drank it.
Love is in the details. It is in the every day. It is the way you treat someone when they aren’t even looking and the way they fill your head when you’re apart.
Of course people were going to see it. Joey saw it almost from day one. Braeden and Ivy already knew. The reporter from GearShark knew from just one conversation…
Hiding our relationship was almost not an option.
Dissolving it wasn’t either.
My hand throbbed and my knuckles were slick with blood when I slammed out of the room. I was so intensely frustrated I couldn’t look at him another minute.
We weren’t over. No way in hell.
But I needed a minute.
My mind was so clouded with anger I didn’t see him. I didn’t notice him at all until he cleared his throat. My body jerked to a stop and my head whipped around to see Romeo leaning against the wall, like he was resolved to be there a while.
I’m sure he heard everything.
Me and Trent had been yelling. And the sound of my hand going through the wall hadn’t exactly been silent.
“Guess I don’t need to ask how he is.” Romeo said, straightening off the wall.
“You agree with him?” I challenged, my hand flexed. It was already fucked up from going through a wall, but I’d use it again if I had to.
“I understand why he thinks he’s doing what’s right.”
At first his words didn’t sink in. They just pissed me off even more. All I heard was Romeo understood Trent. I growled low and stepped forward in an aggressive movement.
Romeo’s every narrowed, watching me close but other than that his body language didn’t change.
That’s when I realized he was no threat to me. That’s when I realized he was on my side.
“We’re in a relationship.” I said, point blank. I kind of wanted to shock him. I wanted someone other than me to feel the sting of words tonight.
I also wanted a fight.
Just not with Trent.
Never with Trent.
“I know.”
The amusement in his tone took a little heat out of my oven.
“You can’t keep secrets like that from family. Family who really loves you.”
I tilted my head to the side and regarded him. Was he saying he knew before he walked into this house a little bit ago?
Was he saying he didn’t care?
“You should probably get that hand cleaned up. You’re bleeding on the floor.”
I glanced down at the blood dripping off my knuckles.
“I’ll talk to Trent.” He went on. Romeo stepped off the wall and toward the bedroom door. I moved fast, silently snatching his arm and turning him around. He didn’t pull away or act like my roughness was a threat, but his muscles tensed beneath my arm and I felt tension coil in his limbs.
“He cares what you think.” I said low. “Your opinion matters. So if you aren’t sure how you feel about our relationship or the fact there are two gay guys in your family walk away, walk away right now.”
Romeo stared at me level, his blue eyes bouncing between mine.
“He’s already fucked up enough right now. If you can’t offer him the brother he needs tonight I won’t let you in that room.”
Romeo smiled. His lips curved up into a knowing, almost pleased expression. “He pissed you off so bad you put your hand through a wall and he’s pushing you away, but yet here you are, standing guard at the door protecting him.”
“That wasn’t an answer,” I growled.
Romeo laughed beneath his breath. And then he answered.
Not with words.
In seconds his arm was out of my grasp and he was hugging me. I hesitated, shocked that he would just reach out and hug me like this.
“Family takes care of family.” his voice was low. “I’m not sure if there is anything that could make me turn my back on family, but if there is, it isn’t this.”
When he pulled back I looked him in the eye.
He meant it.
“Congratulations on finding a love worth fighting for.”

Author Bio:

Cambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.

Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house).

Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch, and Tattoo.

Bixie, Montana is in the middle of nowhere, not connected to any place, and not needed to get to any destination. But one snowy evening, a lone visitor walking down an old country road changes thirteen-year-old Aaron Martin’s life forever. Aaron thinks he’s being a Good Samaritan by inviting the nearly-frozen visitor into his home, but he’s unwittingly initiated “The Game.”

A group of Elders, known as the Council of the Legend, come together from time to time to enjoy a rousing event they playfully call “The Game.” Now, Aaron’s town is the playing board and he and his fellow townspeople are the players. The rules are simple. Win. Because if Aaron loses, he won’t just lose his family. He’ll lose his very identity.

Beth Bowland, a native Ohioan, has always enjoyed reading and creating stories of her own. As a child she devoured every book she could get her hands on and spent numerous hours at the library each week. She loves writing stories for tweens and young teens and her characters are often described as quirky and fun, but always relatable. When she’s not writing, she loves watching HGTV. She has one daughter and resides in Arlington, Texas with her husband, Phillip.

When the virus was released it changed everything about the world. Jules lost her mom and her home, forcing her to live with the father she barely knows. Now, even as society works to rebuild, Jules still feels like she doesnât quite fit in.

Then she meets Roman.

Even before the zombies, he only had himself to depend on. Brooding and rebellious, Roman isnât anyone Jules would have pictured herself with before the zombies came. But now she finds herself willing to give up everything to be with him.

The attraction is too strong for either one of them to ignore, but Roman and Jules soon discover that the uncertainty of their new world extends much farther than just the zombies. When disaster strikes, Roman must race against the most terrifying clock imaginable to save Jules, or once again end up alone.

Iâm still grinning when we step outside. The wooden porch sags beneath my feet, feeling a little less than sturdy, but that isnât what makes my heart almost stop. My smile melts away and my feet stop moving, and within seconds Iâm shaking like a leaf.

There are three zombies in the yard. Three of them. I havenât come this close to one since the first few months of the outbreak, and now there are three.

Roman steps in front of me and shoves the shoebox into my hands as he pulls his knife out, all in one fluid movement. âItâs okay.â

It doesnât feel okay. It feels the complete opposite of okay.

Roman steps off the porch, and one of the zombies spots him right away. The thing groans and moves toward him, chomping his mouth. Gray skin stretches across his face, and the deep gashes that cut across the decaying flesh ooze with black goo. Thankfully, the other two creatures are facing the other way and havenât caught wind of us yet.

Roman doesnât seem afraid in the slightest as he walks toward the dead man. His knife is held firmly in his hand, but heâs steady. Sure of himself as he walks in a big arc around the zombie. He was right. They are slow. But itâs still terrifying, and Iâm still shaking, gripping the box of batteries so hard the cardboard bows under the pressure. Just as Roman reaches the back of the first zombie, the other two notice him and head his way. My heart jumps to my throat and I reach out like Iâm trying to stop them, but no sound comes out when I move my lips.

I try again, and this time his name comes out like a strangled cry. âRoman!â

He smiles like all of this is nothing, then drives his knife into the back of the first zombieâs skull. The thing drops to the ground, and Roman spins to face the others. He charges the second one, a sad-looking woman whose nightgown is stained and tattered, her gray skin barely clinging to her bones. Roman dodges her arms and loops around her back, then jabs his knife into her skull just like he did with the first one.

Two down, but my heart is still pounding wildly.

The third one is so tall that Romanâs head only goes up to the zombieâs shoulders. Next to him, Roman looks like a child. Even worse than his size is the fact that he seems to be faster than the other two. Less decomposed, even, like heâs just recently died.

Roman circles him, but the zombie spins too. His hands reach out to grab Roman, but Roman ducks out of the way. His face tenses, and his eyes dart over to me. I watch, frozen in terror from my place on the porch as Roman tries to get behind the zombie again. He could stab him in a different location, but with as tall as the decaying man is, it wouldnât be safe. Only no matter how many times Roman tries to get behind the corpse, it doesnât work. The thing is too fast and too hungry. Determined.

About the Author

Award-winning author of WHEN WE WERE HUMAN and the Amazon best-selling BROKEN WORLD series, Kate L. Mary writes everything from post-apocalyptic tales of the undead to new adult contemporary romance. A mother of four and an Air Force wife, her days are divided between keeping her household in order and creating new worlds for readers to get lost in.

I thought losing my mother would be the greatest shock of my life, but the greatest shock came after her death.

Founded two centuries ago by an aloof and powerful tribe of Gottwa Indians, Rowan was a quiet town, so quiet that I fled after graduation. Staying away was the plan, but Mom died suddenly, so I rushed home.

Dad said she suffered a stroke after she dug up one of the ancient graves in our backyard, which happens to be the town cemetery. Creepy, I know. Creepier still, there was no corpse inside the old coffin, only fresh rose petals.

As we made preparations for Mom’s burial, Cruz Vega, the new medical examiner, arrived. I should have felt relieved, but how could I? He was unnervingly handsome, glowed like a human firefly, and knew absolutely nothing about examining dead bodies.

But, he did know what killed my mother…or rather who.

About the Author

Olivia Wildenstein grew up in New York City, the daughter of a French father with a great sense of humor, and a Swedish mother whom she speaks to at least three times a day. She chose Brown University to complete her undergraduate studies and earned a bachelor’s in comparative literature. After designing jewelry for a few years, Wildenstein traded in her tools for a laptop computer and a very comfortable chair. This line of work made more sense, considering her college degree.

When she’s not writing, she’s psychoanalyzing everyone she meets (Yes. Everyone), eavesdropping on conversations to gather material for her next book, baking up a storm (that she actually eats), going to the gym (because she eats), and attempting not to be late at her children’s school (like she is 4 out of 5 mornings, on good weeks).

Wildenstein lives with her husband and three children in Geneva, Switzerland, where she’s an active member of the writing community.

Vincent knows he's not the most charming of the Moretti brothers. He prefers brooding to flirting, reading to talking, and he sure as hell isn't about to give into his mother's insistence that he 'settle down with a nice girl.' Luckily, Vincent's gig as one of the NYPD's top homicide detectives keeps him busy. As does his long-time partner, Jill Henleyâa tough-as-nails cop with the face of an angel and smart mouth that makes Vincent crazy in all the worst ways.

After six years of working the homicide beat with the tight-lipped Vincent Moretti, Jill figure she knows him better than anyone. Which is not at all. But when their most recent case points to a potential serial-killer situation, the higher-ups send them on a rare undercover mission to a place no NYPD officer dares go: the Upper Eastside.

Now the bureau's most antagonistic set of partners is posing as Mr. and Mrs. Brooks of Park Avenue. Spending 24/7 in the suspect's territory brings them closer and closer to their killer . . . and closer to each other. Soon Vincent and Jill are playing good cop/bad cop in and out of bed, and Jill's falling hard. But can she convince Vincent to give her a shot as partner in life, as well as at the bureau?

Lauren Layne is the USA Today Bestselling author of more than a dozen contemporary romance novels.

Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. A year after moving from Seattle to NYC to pursue a writing career, she had a fabulous agent and multiple New York publishing deals.

Lauren currently lives in Manhattan with her husband and plus-sized Pomeranian. When not writing, you'll likely find her running (rarely), reading (sometimes), or at happy hour (often).

About Me

I'm a Texas gal with a wonderful husband, an amazing six year old son, and an adorable newborn baby boy!​My blog is about the best things in life - cooking, books, giveaways and reviews of everyday products! ​This is a PR-friendly blog!!